


Vega and Shepard

by BucketBear



Category: Mass Effect (Comics), Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), Gen, Pre-Mass Effect 3, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2020-12-28 11:42:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21136148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BucketBear/pseuds/BucketBear
Summary: James Vega wasn't exactly planning going back to the Alliance, but when Admiral Anderson showed up in the middle of a bar fight, he knew he couldn't exactly say no. This story follows James and Shepard through the events of Mass Effect: Conviction and beyond as he is assigned to guard perhaps the most important prisoner in the galaxy: Commander Shepard.





	1. First Contact

James Vega was on his third mug of whatever slimy drink the Batarians fancied as quality ale. It was not his first choice of drink, but he had grown accustomed to it if only as a challenge to them. He took another look at his hand of halocards before taking another sip of his drink and pushing in the rest of his chips.

“All in,” he said as the Batarians around him sneered.

Behind him, he heard the sound of Omega One, the largest news broadcast on the station. He did his best to ignore it (he tended not to listen too hard to news stations that were rather staunchly anti-human), but eventually, the broadcast caught his ear.

“_While the Citadel Council scrambles to denounce the so-called terrorist acts allegedly carried out by Commander Shepard, Batarian Officials are demanding retribution.”_

There is was again. The name of Commander Shepard, either hero or antagonist of the galaxy. Even someone like James couldn’t help but admire her; she took out the Collectors when no one else could, when people like him failed.

_“Councilor Udina has publicly denied that the Human Alliance had anything to do with the destruction of the mass relay.”_

James smirked at that. It was like news channels to always speak in hypotheticals with all their “_so-called_” this and “_allegedly_” that. It infuriated him; too many people stood by the sidelines and judged those who went out and tried to stop the end of all civilization. Civilians only ever judged the actions and the histories, never thinking too hard about those that had to make them. Others, like Commander Shepard, were only ever abstract ideas to civilians, not people who had to suffer the consequences of their actions every day.

He had no doubt that Commander Shepard had grappled with the destruction of the relay, had to make a decision in an instant that would change and end the lives of hundreds of thousands, maybe even the whole galaxy. And the worst of it was, that hadn’t been the first time she had done that. Somehow, one human had been able to change the galaxy time and time again, never breaking, never faltering.

He knew that she was not the heartless, anti-alien ape that the news portrayed her as; he remembered the stories told by other, quieter voices, those that spoke of her helping colonists or saving lives, and he knew that those were the hardest decisions to make. It took a lot of energy to care about the little man, an amount of energy that seemed to escape him. He found it hard to care about anything after Fehl. That’s why he came to Omega in the first place.

_“Batarian leaders are calling for Shepard’s head—”_

Before he considered his actions, he set his holocards down and rose from the table.

“It’s your bet, human,” one of the Batarians—a mercenary named Dhormak—said.

He did not pause and walked straight over to the television and tore it off of its mount with ease as the rest of the bar fell silent, the only sound the buzz of tearing electrical wires.

“That’s gonna cost you, kid,” the Krogan bartender Serax said.

“Take my winnings. That should more than cover it,” he replied as he dropped the dark TV. He looked back towards the table where an impressive stacks of chips stood abandoned by his seat. “Keep the extra,” he added. “As long as I don’t have to listen to that bullshit.”

Dhormak stood up. “Don’t you think the Batarians deserve payback?” It was more of a threat than a question.

“Yeah,” one of his particularly hot-headed men said. “You a Shepard lover, Human?”

James rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “Why don’t we all just sit down and finish our game.”

Time seemed to slow down as the Batarians quickly glanced towards each other before Presk leapt from his seat and lunged at him with a knife.

James easily sidestepped the first swipe and hefted the TV up as a shield. The second swipe came, and he caught the knife directly in the center of the screen before tearing it out of the Batarian’s grip. He flipped the television over to stab the Batarian with his own knife. As he slumped to the floor, James squared himself and turned back towards the rest of them.

“Anyone else want a turn?” he quipped.

Dhormak barred his twisted teeth at him. “Alliance scum, you’re all the same, thinking you’re so much better than us.”

“Well, better looking for sure.” There were six Batarians surrounding him now, and he knew that he had to move fast. Even he couldn’t take them all out; he needed an escape, and his eyes set on the glass wall behind the first group of Batarians.

“We’ll see how you look after we—”

James didn’t let Dhormak finish before he lunged at him and slammed him against the window behind them. For a instant, he feared that the glass wouldn’t snap, but as the thought briefly came, the glass shattered around them. They tumbled to the street a story down, and when James landed on Dhormak, the Batarian didn’t move again.

Dazed as he may have been, James clambered to his feet and ignored the pain as he felt blood begin to swell and ooze down his left arm. He took a moment to square himself once more as the remainder of Dhormak’s crew rushed out of the first-story door.

“You boys just don’t know when to give up,” he said as he prepared for another brawl.

When one of the Batarians lunged at him, James twisted around to catch him on his back before throwing him to the ground. Two more were upon him as they drew knives from concealed sheaths. James slithered between them and dodged one of their blows only for it to strike the other opponent. Without wasting a second, he slammed his forehead into the Batarian’s cartilaginous face and pulled both of them to the floor. James prepared a series of wicked blows to his opponent’s bloodied face before a laser bullet struck the ground next to him.

“Enough!” a voice called out.

Expecting to see the Omega guards once more, James stood up and rolled his shoulders. As he turned around, he saw not the police but rather an Alliance road cruiser and several uniformed men.

“Lieutenant James Vega. You’re a hard man to find.”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked twice to clear his vision, but the person in front of him didn’t change. “Admiral Anderson?”

“Dust yourself off and follow me,” the Admiral’s deep voice said. When James didn’t immediately move to follow him, the Admiral added, “That’s an order.”

James legs moved to follow the Admiral before he could ask them to. Once a military man, always a military man.

He wiped some of the blood off his face. “Where we going,” he asked. He never was a man for formality.

The Admiral waited until the entire party was safe inside the cruiser before answering. “I’m ending your leave of absence early and taking you back for more training.”

Of course he couldn’t get a straight answer—CO’s only knew how to answer related inquiries. “What the Hell for?”

“It’s time you got over the incident on Fehl. Time for you to be the soldier we expect of you.”

“No disrespect, sir, but I’d rather not just get over it.”

“You’re a damned fool if you think I’m going to let a soldier as good as you pass your life away in this shithole. You’re coming to Earth with me. Now.”

There was no room for disagreement, and they spent the rest of the short journey to the spaceport in silence.

“Forget it,” Vega finally said. “There’s nothing for me there.”

The Admiral smirked, but Vega could tell that there was a rather important detail that he was admitting. Again, a strong suit of commanding officers. “I’ve got something for you, something you haven’t had before.” Anderson opened the cruiser door and stepped out, nodding to the driver and the rest of his party. James stepped out to follow him.

“Well it certainly isn’t answers” he mumbled just loud enough for the admiral to hear.

If Anderson had a reaction, he couldn’t see it.

They headed straight through the security checkpoints and towards the back of the space port. Vega looked over the spaceport and saw the usual pirate and mercenary ships, but the two flashiest ships docked caught his attention. There was the battle-weary frigate proudly named SSV Hastings, but docked behind was the massive Normandy SR-2, it’s gleaming plating marred by recent burns and scars of battle.

Everyone had heard the talltale that Shepard was going straight to the lair of the Collectors and destroy them within, but that was a suicide mission. It was the suicide mission as far as anyone was concerned, and yet here the Normandy was—battered and bruised it may have been.

“Does that mean…”

“That the Collectors are destroyed? Yes, Lieutenant. As far as I know, not a single one made it out.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. By all means, none of them should have returned, but the Normandy isn’t your concern and neither are her crew.”

As they traveled closer to the two magnificent vessels, the eyes of every Batarian, Vorcha, Turian, Asari, and Human fell upon them as they passed. It was an eerie feeling, but he resisted the urge to mention it to the Admiral. 

“Well what the Hell is my concern then? You haven’t told me a goddamn thing! If you’re going to, just through me in the goddamned brig and be done with it.”

Anderson was silent for a moment as they passed a ring of Alliance soldiers blocking off entry to the two vessels. “You know, you’re not far off, Lieutenant,” he began. “Only you’ll be guarding the brig, one prisoner in particular.”

Realization hit him. “Commander Shepard.”

The Admiral’s curt glance was all the confirmation he needed.

When James didn’t immediately follow, Anderson looked back at him. “Close your mouth. I doubt that’s the impression you’ll want to make. Now shut up and let me do the talking.”

James did not particularly care for the Admiral’s tone, but perhaps now was not the time to bring it up. He was in the Alliance again, it seemed, and he would have to start acting like it. Fortunately, it was not something you forgot easily.

Anderson waved to the two privates guarding the door to the Normandy. There was a particularly deep scar sliced across it’s front and the silver metal beneath the shiny coat of paint was exposed. Even the legendary and infallible Normandy and her crew, it seemed, had their own scars.

The door opened as they approached and they stepped inside. There was a soft redlight that illuminated the corridor ahead of the recompression chamber, and the Admiral led Vega and the small entourage behind him to the right. There was a massive, beautiful command center at the heart of the ship, and standing behind the map of the galaxy, was Commander Shepard.

She was less impressive in-person than the news vids would have him believe. Her shoulder-length brown hair was pulled into a tight bun behind her, and her stern face seemed older than she was. Her expression was surprisingly blank as she stared at the Admiral’s ensemble, and she outstretched her hands on the steel guardrail behind the map.

“Admiral Anderson,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “Do I take this to mean that you have accepted my terms of surrender?”

“In part, yes.”

“Explain. I’m not in the mood for circuitous answers.”

“The Cerberus defectors will be admitted into the Alliance as you have requested—provided they pass the necessary checks and make it through basic training—but the remainder of your squad, as you say, will be tried in the Alliance Court as complacent in the charges placed against you.”

“Fine, though I doubt you’ll manage to find them. You’d think that going through the Omega 4 Relay would toughen up those bastards, but they scattered like rats as soon as we made port.”

Figures, James thought, though he couldn’t help but wonder how a squad almost as legendary as Shepard herself would scamper away with their tails tucked in.

“Yeah, well not all of them could make a break for it,” a rather lanky man behind Shepard said. “Some of us have to do things properly, you know?”

It took a moment for James to place his face, but he recognized the man as Jeff Moreau, one of—if not the—best pilots in the galaxy. After the loss of the first Normandy, Moreau had fallen off the radar, and James now knew that he had found his way to Cerberus.

Anderson looked back just enough to catch the eye of one of the men assembled behind James. “Search the ship,” he said sternly.

“Shep, you can’t just let them do that. We haven’t given her up yet!”

“Let it go, Joker,” Shepard said without looking back at her pilot. “We all know how this will go down. Though,” she said a little louder. “I would say that you don’t have to send your men away. It’s a big ship, and we can prove that there is no one outside of the CIC.”

Anderson shifted on his feet. “And how do you propose to do that.”

“Joker.” The command was nothing more than a name, but it carried weight behind it. Shepard, James knew, was a commander through and through, nothing that he could ever hope to be.

“EDI,” Moreau said. “How many organics are aboard this ship right now?”

“Fifty-two, Jeff.”

The members of the Alliance shifted uncomfortably. VIs were not standard on their cruisers; too much to go wrong.

“It’s a lady VI,” James murmured.

A faint smile pulled it’s way across Moreau’s face. “And where are they located?”

“They are all located in the CIC except for Engineer Donnally who is turning off residual systems in the engine room. I can summon him if you’d like.”

Moraeu looked back at Shepard who nodded before saying, “Please do.”

“Does the VI only respond to Moraeu?” Anderson asked.

“Sure does,” the man responded. “Cerberus does things a little atypically, if you know what I mean.”

“And what of the Normandy?” Shepard asked, reaffirming her control over the conversation.

“It will be repurposed as you requested. God knows we need the ships these days. She’ll be taken back to Earth with us and modified for our use.”

The Commander’s eyes darted around the room for a second as her face grew more stern, and James could have sworn that he saw the mental calculus she was doing. “Then, Admiral, my crew and I surrender to Alliance command and present you with the SSV Normandy SR2.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by the Systems Alliance, hereby strip you of your rank and charge you with the following: willful and reckless killing of innocents, joining a terrorist organization, abandoning—”

After the first few, James tuned the admiral out. Those that had chosen the charges had no business doing so; they clearly did not understand the first thing about military command, Alliance command or not. Leadership required choices, hard choices. Sacrifice. The good of the many over the good of the few. He knew that all too well. 

“Men, arrest the Commander and prepare the Normandy for transport back to Earth.” Anderson turned back and walked stridently towards the hatch. As he passed James, he said in a low voice, “Take her to the Hasting’s brig. I will meet you there.”


	2. The Journey Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vega and Shepard make their way to the SSV Hastings.

Commander Shepard did not resist as the servicemen put the hulking mass effect field dampeners on her wrists. The room was palpably uncomfortable; the remaining crewmen aboard the Normandy shifted on their feet and fidgeted their hands but did nothing to interceed. Even the jocose Moraeu refrained from comment.

Two servicemen guided Shepard towards the Normandy’s hatch, one on each arm. As they neared him, James crossed his arms and planted his feet. “Lieutenent James Vega. Admiral Anderson has entrusted the co--the prisoner to me.”

Both looked at each other and to their comrades behind James, undoubtedly looking for some sort of affirmation from those they knew, but James knew how to make people budge, and the two enlisted didn’t put up any more of a fight as they handed her over.

“Would you like us to accompany you, sir?” One asked tentatively.

“No,” he responded as he firmly gripped one of Shepard’s arms and led her away from her crew. Shepard may have had a slight build, but her arms were solid and toned. Despite their differences in size, here was someone that James was not certain he could best in combat, and he found himself being glad that the commander did not seem inclined to test that theory—at least for the moment.

He did his best to face forward and walk proudly, but every so often, his eyes drifted back to her. He would have been lying if he said that he didn’t admire her—who wouldn’t? She was the hero of many in the galaxy. Shepard’s was absolutely expressionless, her eyes staunchly set forward, and her breaths were even but deep. James was certain her heart was thudding away in her chest, but still, she forced herself to be calm. It was something the very best soldiers were experts at. Shepard was a master.

Through those brief glances, James found himself seeing her as surprisingly human. There was an errant strand of hair in her face, and her skin had grown slightly paler in color. Every so often, her eyes flicked away to look at something around.

He readjusted his grip and subconsiously stole another glance as they neared the Normandy’s exit, but this time, she stared back. Their eyes met for only a moment, he felt diminshed by the shear force of emotion and will behind them. Her startling green eyes stared through him as if she took in his every detail in that one glance, but they soon diverted their attention to the crowd that had grown between the Normandy and the Hastings.

The soldiers guarding the Normandy’s hatch saw James and Shepard and they pushed aside the shouting and jeering crowd to create a pathway between the vessels. Loudest were the Batarians, shouting for Shepard’s execution, the revenge of Aratoht, and a myriad of particularly choice insults. The overbearing noise was almost too much for James; he hated being the center of attention, and he certainly wished to be anywhere but leading the most contentious human in the galaxy.

Something in the crowd changed just before they reached the stairs leading to the Hastings. He was unsure of the cause, but the discontent in the crowd had turned to rage. A flashing object caught his attention mere feet from him and Shepard, but before he could react, Shepard twisted to the towards the ground. Still in motion, she righted both herself and James.

It was then that he realised that he had never truly been in control of the situation. This had been Shepard’s show the whole time; not even the Admiral and his own considerable presence could bar her from assuming control. For her to do so was effortless. Natural, even.

Desperate to feign theappearance of his own control over the situation, James quicked his pace forwards, pulling the commander with him. He looked back to see what had been thrown at them just as a gleaming knife clattered to the ground. Had Shepard not yanked him at the last moment, the aim would have been true.

The commander, prisoner or not, had saved his life, and now he was in her debt.

The crowd grew frantic, charging forward into the Alliance soldiers, the Batarians swearing vengence on the woman who killed their own. James pulled Shepard onto the Hastings and shoved her as far in as he could before turning to help as many soldiers board as were able to before becoming subsumed into the crowd. Just as the first Batarians neared the door, he slammed it shut.

“Will it hold?” One of the soldiers asked. He was young, and by his anxious glances towards Shepard, James guess he had joined when he learned of the Reaper threat.

“It’s Alliance Steel,” he said as he turned back towards the commander. “I doubt even a thresher maw would get through there.” He grabbed her once more and headed straight back, towards what he guess would be the CIC.

He passed through a number of narrow corridors and rooms before Shepard said, “It’s been a long time since I saw an on-duty Alliance soldier not in uniform.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be on duty was all.”

“So I take it that you’ve never been on this ship before.”

James stopped walking and looked at her. “Oh I see what you’re getting at. Just ‘cuz I’ve never been aboard this ship doesn’t mean I don’t know the standad layout of Alliance frigates. I passed all those tests too, you know.”

“Ah, my mistake then,” she replied with her stereotypical blank expression. “I suppose we are taking the scenic route.”

James narrowed his eyes. “You don’t even know where we’re going.”

“I highly doubt that in the two-and-a-half years it’s been since I was active they changed standard booking protocol and the layout of this ship. At this rate, I might as well walk myself to the brig.”

He cracked his knuckles on his free hand. “I missed the elevator down, didn’t I.”

“Yes, Sir.”

With an audible sigh, he turned around and walked back about fifteen steps to where the now-obvious green lock on the elevator was. The commander followed, and they traveled down to deck 3. They walked through another echoing hallway before finally arriving at their destination. Two soldiers and their guns at the ready stood by the glass doors that led to the brig.

“Lieutenent James Vega here with—”

“Yeah, yeah,” one of them said. “Anderson said you’d be coming.” He smashed a button next to him with the back of his fist. “Head inside and wait for him there.”

“Uh, thanks,” James replied before the glass doors behind him sealed once more.

The brig was the standard design for vessels of the Hasting’s size. There was a central room with four cells immediately adjact to it. The front wall of each cell was made of clear glass to provide unabeited viewing of the occupant as well as the bed, chair, and toilet within.

“Any preference?”

“Number four. It’s a nice even, square number.”

“You a math fan?”

“No, I just like to make a habit of sounding officious”

Smashing the wall button in a similar manner as the guard outside, the door opened and Shepard walked inside before turning to James expectantly. She blinked a couple of times rather pointedly.

“What?”

“You don’t expect me to sit in here for God-knows-how-long with these on, do you?” she said with a shake of her restraints.

They stared at each other for a handful of moments before James gave in and released her hands. “You get me in trouble and I swear I'll find a way to make your life a living hell.”

Shepard rolled her shoulders a bit. “Most people do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Other than the murder attempt and subsequent incarceration, Shepard thought that things were going well. Within the past three weeks, the Collectors had been destroyed, the Shadow Broker had been taken down, and the Reaper’s attack on intelligent life had been delated. She had stolen the Normandy SR-2 from Cerberus (though as EDI liked to point out, the ship and crew had pretty much been hers from the start), told the Illusive Man the shove his arrogance up his ass, ensured the safe assimilation of much her crew into the Alliance, and provided means of escape for the rest.

Mission completed.

Of course, her next mission had a less certain fate. Politics rarely worked out in her favor, and should she fail to clear up this war crime business with the Alliance, the future of the Galaxy seemed bleark. Delayed or not, the arrival of the Reapers was imminent, and she was going to need allies in the fight ahead. While the Alliance’s hands were rather tied on this matter with her and the Batarians, there were always those within its ranks that could be persuaded to go a little renegade. There were always Andersons, Hacketts, and Shepards in every military.

But it wouldn’t due to dwell on the future until she was certain of the present. After all, she had more immediate concerns to deal with.

First, there was Anderson. Last time she had seen him, he had been a councilor on the Citadel Council, but here he was back in Alliance blue. She knew that he never was a man of politics, but his sudden departure from his post struck her as out-of-character. It did not, however, surprise her that the Illusive Man had failed to notify her of it. He must have figured that Shepard would have diverted from the mission to speak with him.

And then there was this Lt. James Vega. She had not heard of him before, something she considered unsurprising due to her brief vacation from existence. He was a burly fellow—arrogant, too. He seemed an experience soldier albeit one unfamiliar with the politics that the Galaxy insisted on following. As he drummed his fingers on the far wall impatiently, she could not help but note that he lacked the confidence of a soldier sure of his mission.

“You know,” she said. “You can always read something on the Extranet if I bore you too much.”

He grunted and crossed his arms. “Sorry, _chica_. You’re my first priority.”

“I’m flattered, but you should really ask me out for a drink first.”

A few moments of quiet passed before he said, “Sooooo…the Collectors, huh?”

“Yep.”

“They’re all gone?”

“Not a single one left.”

“Good.”

“Yep.”

More rather awkward silence ensued. The Lt. did not seem entirely interested in conversation, and Shepard truly didn’t mind the interlude. While she was curious to learn more about the man assigned to her, there would be plenty of time for that later. For now, it gave her a chance to try and relax. She took a moment to try out the breathing exercises that Liara had once suggested. If she was honest, Shepard thought that they sounded a little ridiculous, but Liara said she would always do them before a big exam in graduate school. Shepard never went to college, but she supposed incarceration was close enough and tried anyway.

Eventually, movement outside the glass doors of the brig caught her attention. She saw Anderson walking briskly towards them. He ignored the sentries’ salutes at the doors and entered. Out of habit, she stood and repeated the gesture. Once the doors close he walked right up to the glass outside her cell and said, “I don’t like this one bit, Shepard.”

“I’m not incredibly fond of it either, sir, but I believe you and I both know that this was the best course of action. Without the Alliance on our side, we have no hope against the Reapers.”

“I’m not arguing with your logic, but you also can fight them very well within a prison.”

“That is a risk that needed to be taken.”

“About this whole business with the Alpha Relay—“

“You read my report, sir. I did not omit any details worth sharing.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. I would still like to hear it from you directly.”

As she had done a number of times before, Shepard relayed the tale of her escapade into Batarian Space. She spared no details, not even the meeting she had with Hackett on the Normandy. After she finished, Anderson took a few steps back and leaned against the wall behind him.

“That was a hell of an affair, Shepard. I must admit that there is a very short list of soldiers who could have pulled a stunt like that off.”

“I doubt that Earth will see it like that, sir.”

“We will have to wait and see.”

The two soldiers stared at the floor between them for a moment. Shepard’s mind was embroiled in the fearsome possibilities of what awaited her at Earth; it was strange how she could fly into a suicide mission without a strand of doubt in her mind while her return to Earth filled her with fear.

“Shepard,” Anderson began. “I must ask. Was there anything you could have done differently?”

“I did everything I could, sir, both with Dr. Kenson and the Batarians. There wasn’t enough time to warn them. If they hadn’t drugged me then maybe, but as it was, there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“I understand. I’m not blaming you for this, but I would caution against your use of language. There can be no ‘maybes’ in this anymore. The evidence against you is shoddy at best, but there are more than a few back on Earth that believe getting rid of you will shove this whole business with the Reaper under the rug. And again, if they are not thorough enough in their investigation, then there is a chance the Batarians will want war over this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If my time in politics taught me anything, it is that politicians will do almost anything to get what they want. If they want you gone, by God you will be.”

“About that, sir. Why did you leave the Council?”

“We are about to face the greatest threat the Galaxy has ever scene. Do you really think I would be able to sit bickering over trite statutes and laws? Would you?”

“No.”

“I’m a soldier, Shepard, through and through. It’s all I’ve ever known. For me, a life without action is hardly a life at all. I’d wager that you feel the same way.

“Don’t get me wrong here; it was an honor to be humanity’s first councilor, but it is a position better suited for men like Udina.”

“I take it that he is your successor?”

“Yes. There were very few humans with enough experience with the Council to be considered. He’s a slime of a man, but politics suits him and I do believe he has humanity’s best interests in mind.

“But on a different note,” he said, turning towards the Lt. “I believe I should introduce the two of you. Shepard, this is Lt. James Vega. He is an accomplished commander and an even more accomplished soldier. I am assigning him to be your personal guard during your stay on Earth.”

“A guard? What, do I need a babysitter?”

“Actually yes. If you’re not in a cell, then you will be stuck behind a desk pushing papers, and with your attention span, you’ll certainly need a slap on the wrist to keep you going.”

“Very funny.”

“There is another reason. It is not out of the question for the Batarians or some other faction to send assassins after you. The Reapers aren’t the only ones who want you dead.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

Anderson nodded before he stood from the wall. “Well, I should go to maintain the image of my own neutrality in this.”

Shepard nodded as well before asking: “Will you be on the Tribunal?”

“No, we have too much history for that to happen.”

She had figured as much but thought it was worth asking anyway. “Before you leave,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for allowing my crew amnesty.”

A sly smile spread over his face. “I doubt we could have caught them on Omega even if we tried.”

“I like to think I play the game well.”

“Yes, well, if Kasumi Goto or those Cerberus folks ever decides to turn themselves in like you did, let me know.”

“You’ll be the first I tell.”

“I will see you soon, Shepard. It won’t be too long before we reach Earth. Lt,” he said, turning to Vega. “If you’d come with me, I’d like a word with you.”

As the two of them exited, Shepard gave herself to the woes of waiting. Her thoughts drifted to their usual habitats: how to combat the Reapers, the preparation of the Galaxy, Liara, and the ever-growing desire for a tennis ball to throw against the wall.


	4. On the Subject of Reapers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Anderson tells James why he is there and Shepard tells the story of the Reapers.

“James,” Anderson said as he and James left the brig. “I'll keep this short. I know you don’t want to be here. Hell, if it were up to you, you’d probably still be in that bar on Omega. But I need you here. With Shepard.”

“What do you think I can do that she can’t on her own?’

“This isn’t about her, and it isn’t even about you anymore.”

“It’s about the Reapers, isn’t it?”

Anderson nodded sternly. “What have you heard?”

“Not much. Fairy tales and campfire stories mostly, but Shepard mentioned them in a couple of vids or something.”

“I’m sure she did. They’re about all that’s been on her mind. Well, that and her crew. But that’s beside the point. The stories are real, James. They’re coming and soon if Shepard is right.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think Shepard knows more about them than just about anyone. I trust her every word on the matter.”

That was a lot for anyone to say, especially an admiral, and James did not take it lightly. “And she wants me on her team?”

“I don’t think she knows what she wants. But even Shepard can’t go through this alone. No, I want you on her team, starting now. I need you with her. I need her to trust you. And most importantly, I want you with her when all this goes to hell. This debacle with the Batarians will blow over soon enough and when it does, the real fight begins. We will play the politicians’ games, follow their trials and tribulations, but make no mistake. The Reapers are the real threat, and soon they will be the only threat that matters.”

“And until then?”

“Get her whatever she needs. If she needs information on the Reapers, get it for her. When we get to Earth, there will be protocols we will have to follow. Her access will be limited, and I will need someone to make sure she gets what she needs to do her job.”

“Unofficially, I assume?”

The admiral nodded again. “Officially, you’re guarding the most important prisoner in the galaxy. Unofficially, you’re going to help save our skins.”  
James paused for a moment. He was usually a quick thinker; he could pull comebacks out of his with ease, but this was a heavy load, even for him to take. 

“You doing okay there, son?”

Realizing he had been staring oddly at the admiral, James squared his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

“Any questions?”

Several, actually. What were these “Reapers” that could threaten the entire galaxy? If they were such a threat, why weren’t all of the armies mobilizing into action? Hell, why did they take this long to end his leave of absence? But most importantly, why was he the one chosen for this mission after the disaster he made of Fehl Prime?

“No, sir.”

Anderson nodded, looking for all the world as if he had expected that answer. Hell, he had probably heard it a thousand times from other soldiers. Alliance soldiers were good at many things, but talking about their feelings in a circle was not one of the things they had been trained in. “Let me know if you chance you mind, son. I’m an easy man to find. When you’re off-duty, report to the crews’ quarters; there’s a bunk for you there. But any time you’re on duty, stay with Shepard. Get her anything she needs.”

“When will we arrive at Earth?”

“We have a couple of relay jumps, but the solar wind is at our backs on our way to the relay. Barring any issues, we should arrive at the Sol Relay in the next day. From there it’s four days to Earth.”

Anderson saluted and James returned the gesture, but just as they parted ways, the admiral grabbed James arm and said, “Shepard was a great XO, an even better commander, but an even dearer friend. Take care of her, Vega. I’m counting on you.” James stared after him a little awkwardly for a second before turning back towards the brig. 

***

When the glass doors opened, James found Shepard lounged casually on her bed reading an Alliance pamphlet. “How’d it go?”

“Well,” James said, pulling out a chair from a nearby empty cell. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a while.”

“Not the worst that could happen,” she said as she turned a page in the pamphlet. “I hear from reliable sources that I make for some great company.”

“I see you found some light reading.”

“You mean So You’re in the Brig. Here’s What’s Next? Sure. Nice and light.”

“I used to have that thing memorized when I was younger.”

“I’m sure there’s an extra in here somewhere,” she said, gesturing to the empty brig. “I’m sure you can get a copy if you’d like to relearn it.”

James chuckled but didn’t respond. 

After a couple of moments, Shepard shut the brochure and tossed it on the bedside table. “What did the admiral want?”

“Nothing much. Just let me know that I’m ‘doing the Alliance a solid here’ by guarding, well, uh, you.”

“It’s nice to be valued. 

“Shepard, I have to ask. What’s the deal with these “Reaper” things? Anderson mentioned them.”

Her expression turned serious as she sat up. “The Reapers are sentient machines that have one goal in mind—harvesting all intelligent organic life.”

“What? Forgive me but that—“

“Sounds a little ridiculous? Yeah, I know. That doesn’t make it any less true. They’ve wiped out countless civilizations. The Inusannon, the Protheans, and now they have their eyes set on us. They’re coming, James. Very soon, and we aren’t prepared for it. Not the Alliance, not the Turians, not the Asari, and certainly not the Citadel.”

“If the Citadel has known about this, then why haven’t they done anything?”

Shepard was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. Scared probably. If they do nothing, they can pretend like they don’t exist. But they do, and people are waking up to it. Hackett, Anderson, the Shadow Broker, hell—even Cerberus.”

“That’s not enough.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. But that doesn’t mean we can stop fighting. Every thought, every action has to be focused on the Reapers or we all die.”

“You said their goal was to harvest organic life, not to destroy it. Why? To what gain?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s part of their life cycle or how they were designed. There is so much that we don’t know and not much time to figure it out.”

James was quiet for a moment, thinking about all she said. Finally, he said, “I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever I can.”

She smirked. “I don’t know how much good I can do from inside a prison cell.”

“You have to try.”

“Yeah.” she nodded. “We all do.”

“Can you tell me what you know about them? Everything?”

“Don’t see anything else to do. Why not?”

For the next several hours, through the first mass relay jump and into James’ rec shift, she told him everything. Told him about the Prothean Beacon, about Illos, about the human colonies, about the Omega Relay, and finally, about the Alpha Relay. Some of it he had heard before from earlier or from the news vids, but he didn’t stop her. He needed to learn everything he could about the Reapers so he could help Shepard. It wasn’t even because Anderson ordered him to; until then, he didn’t realize how desperately he had needed a task, to feel needed. And here was someone he could help. Here was someone who wouldn’t let him fail. 

He knew that she was holding back details, that there were things she wouldn’t tell. Maybe she would later or maybe they were things she held so deep to her chest that she would never speak of them. He had things like that; most experienced soldiers did. They were what kept you sane and reminded you of what were to happen should you fail. She was rather vague on the details of her crew, but he could tell that they were as much of her family as anyone could be.

And at the end of her story, she said, “There is something you can help me with. I need two things.”

“What?”

“I need to send a message, and I need a ball. One that bounces.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  
Hello! It is I! The Author! I am alive and still writing. Slowly, of course, but I’m a junior in physics so I like to think I get a pass? Anyway, I know the last four chapters have been both short and very dialogue heavy. I’m not as experienced writing anything other than dialogue; I feel like I do a much better job of hearing characters talk than I do seeing their actions. This story is probably about a third done, and next chapter things will start picking up when they get back to Earth. I should say that I’m not super familiar with either military law or the military in general, so I will do the best I can. I also am having a hard time balancing story and science—as a physics major (studying astrophysics actually) it’s hard for me to not bring in relativity and actual space science into this—that you could potentially get to Earth from the Sol Relay in four days is absolutely badonkers, and even if you could, imagine the time dilation! Ah! That would be all crazy. So I’m just tying it all down to science magic like one often does in softer sci-fi (though I could totally make the case for ME being a hard science fiction but that would take all day and probably wouldn’t be super interesting to anyone but me). 
> 
> On another note, I think I should also mention that I am doing the best I can to stick to cannon in this. So that means that (a) Shepard can’t get conventional messages from people (as we learn from Thane’s romance in ME3), (b) Shepard loses all rank and the privaleges that go along with it (though maybe not technically Spectre status?), and (c) no one from the squad visits her (with the exception of passing glances of either Ashley or Kaidan). I know a couple of things about this Shepard. She is heavily based on my original Shep and is Earthborn, Sole-Survivor, Paragon (with a little bit of fun Renegade moments), and romanced Liara in ME1 and no one in ME2 (I will always hold out for the lesbian love of my life). I would, however, argue that she is able to have very, very limited and indirect contact with Liara simply because she is the Shadow Broker and possibly the most powerful person in the galaxy. All we know from ME3 (or at least as far as I know since I’m replaying it right now) is that Liara tried to visit her and could not. 
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoy. This is my first fic ever (and not something I ever thought I would do), so let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or suggestions! Also if you know how to indent on AO3. The lack of indentation really bothers me! :D


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